Once Upon A Time
by KnifeInTheCrayonBox
Summary: Wendy is kidnapped on her 21st birthday, and on the eve of her wedding night, by the notorious Captain Hook, who plans to use her as a bargaining chip to get rid of Peter Pan once and for all...if he doesn't fall in love with her first. "I'm the bad guy—the 'villain', I don't get a 'happily ever after' like the good guys do, but if I did...it would have involved you." Wendy/Hook
1. How Come The Bad Guys Never Win?

It was the turn of the century, the beginning of a new era…and it was marked by a tragedy. It was the sinking of the great, grand ship everyone had been talking about—the 'Titanic.' It had been declared unsinkable, which was perhaps the reason why it caused such a big stir when it sank in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, killing more than half its passengers. And yet, in wake of this tragedy, the first thing that came to my mind was quite another ship. A pirate ship by the name of _The Jolly Roger_.

Every time I heard of a ship, that pirate ship popped into my mind, as clear as if I could still see it in the night sky. But as I pondered on these things I realized exactly how much time had passed since I _had_ seen it.

Eight years. It had been almost eight years since I'd last seen _him—_the boy with the red hair and spirit that no one could tame—and yet his face was still clearly etched in my mind, as if branded there for life. If I closed my eyes I could still catch a glimpse of the magnificent feeling that flying brought, and the strange emotions I felt when I almost kissed Peter—feelings I didn't quite understand back then. But whenever I opened my eyes again those long-ago memories disappeared, and I realized that I was still in the real world…and I was no longer a little girl. I myself was living proof of that, as well as John and Michael.

At thirteen, John had grown into a fine young man, more sophisticated than most children his age. He had stopped believing in Peter Pan when he turned ten, arguing that our adventure to Never Land had been nothing more than a dream—a mere illusion. I tried to tell him that it was impossible we all had the same dream, but he would hear none of it.

Michael, on the other hand, still firmly believing in Peter Pan. At the age of nine, Michael was still a kid at heart. He loved to play pirates, although he had to play by himself ever since John decided he was 'too old for such nonsense,' as he put it. Sometimes I would play with Michael, and often, (since I was the only one in the house besides Michael who believed in Peter Pan) I would tell him stories of Never Land.

My father, as always, disapproved of the stories, but was even more insistent as of lately, that I needed to leave those childish things behind so I could become a proper young lady. At twenty years old, I felt like my life was being decided for me, instead of deciding what I wanted to do with it.

It all started when I turned nineteen. My father took me to a business party at the bank, along with my mother, leaving John in charge of Michael. It was like any other social outing, except my father had something planned for me that evening. That was the evening my feet were bound with shackles and I felt my freedom being taken away.

That was the night I met Edward.

_"Wendy, darling, I would like you to meet my dear friend, Mister Charles Jones," my father announced, making a sweeping gesture at a man in a top hat and coat that stood in front of me. He had on a polite smile and a certain twinkle in his eyes._

_"Pleasure to meet you," I said almost as a reflex as I curtsied._

_"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Darling," Mr. Jones said, then he turned around._

_"Edward, come here," he said and a moment later a young man about my age stepped up next to him, looking up at him expectantly._

_"Edward, I would like you to meet Miss Wendy Darling," he said, giving him son a bright smile._

_"Wendy, this is my son Edward," he continued, turning his eyes to me. Edward turned to look at me and as he did a smile spread across his face. Before I could speak he grabbed my hand and kissed the top._

_"Pleasure to meet you, Wendy."_

_I forced a smile and pulled my hand away, feeling slightly uncomfortable with his boldness._

_"The pleasure is all mine." I recited the courteous line like a skilled actor._

_The rest of the night was filled with forced laughter, fake smiles, and routine gestures before my father, mother, and I retired to our carriage and set off for home. As the familiar sound of horse hooves against cobblestone filled my ears, I leaned my head against my mother's shoulder and dozed off. I was just about to crossover into dreamland when my father's voice pulled me back, jolting me awake._

_"Wendy?" he called. My head snapped up at the sound of my name and I forced my tired eyes open to look at him._

_"Hm?" I asked, unable to keep the tiredness out of my voice._

_"Your mother and I have something to tell you," he said, and a smile started to play at the corner's of his lips._

_"What is it?" I asked drowsily._

_"As you know, we have been taking into careful consideration your future. You are growing into quite a fine young lady, and as such, it is nearing time for you to marry," my father began._

_"Yes, I know father."_

_"Darling, do you remember that young man you met at the party? Edward?" my mother asked, seemingly changing the subject; I nodded, but didn't understand. My mind was still hazy from the exhausting evening, and I was having a hard time trying to decipher what they were trying to say._

_"Yes, what of him?" I asked, looking at both my parent in utter confusion._

_"Well, to be quite frank...I talked with Edward's father last week and we agreed that you will marry Edward," my father said. This was enough to chase my lethargy away completely._

_"Marry Edward?" I gasped, sure that I had misheard them in my half-asleep state._

_"Yes, isn't it wonderful my dear?" my mother beamed, putting a hand on my shoulder._

_"But…but why?" I asked, unable to keep the fear from creeping into my voice. The smile fell from my mother's face._

_"Why, aren't you happy, Wendy? Edward comes from a wealthy family, and this will ensure your comfort and happiness," she said, speaking in a soothing manner, but nothing could calm me right now._

_"My comfort maybe, but not my happiness. I don't love him," I protested, and suddenly the smile on my father's face turned into a scowl, but before he could speak my mother pressed her hand against my cheek in an effort to soothe me._

_"You will, my dear. You will with time."_

_"Wendy, we're doing this because we love you. It is a very fine match, you and Edward," my father said, irritation biting at his voice._

_"But I…I hardly know him," I said, exasperated because my protests and excuses were becoming fewer._

_"There will be time to get to know him, my darling. There is to be a two year engagement period," my mother said, thinking this would calm my spirit, but all it did was make me think of how much time I had to figure a way out of this._

_That night my mother came to my bedroom and sat down on the bed next to me, where I sat with my knees drawn up to my chin. My mother put a hand on my shoulder, but I couldn't bring myself to look her in the eye. How could they do this?_

_"It's not as terrible as you think, my dear. Edward is a nice young man, and he will be able to provide for and take care of you. You will be as happy with him as I am with your father," she said before leaning over to kiss my forehead, just like she did when I was a young girl._

_"Goodnight, Wendy."_

That was two years ago, and since then I got to know Edward very well, as my mother said I would. He was a nice young man, someone a lady like me should love. He was perfect…but he was also perfectly dull. He was the silent type, and not very adventurous or daring. Put simply, he was boring.

He also didn't believe in Peter Pan. Whenever I told him of how I went off to Never Land he would smile, pat my hand, and say, 'I think it's lovely that you have such a fertile imagination. They will make great stories for our children someday, but that's all they are…stories.' Oh, how it enraged me!

But as I walked home from the bakers shop with a bag of flour, I knew I had to face the facts. Today was my twenty-first birthday, and my last night as a free woman, for tomorrow was to be my wedding day. Today my mother was putting together a birthday party and a 'goodbye' party, because after I married Edward we would be moving to York, all the way across England, and so very far away from my family.

As I walked along the London streets that were left muddy and wet from last night's rain, I made sure to pick my skirts off from the ground so they wouldn't get dirty. Father would have a fit if I ruined my new skirt, and I had to keep up my appearance, for Edward was coming to the celebration tonight.

As I walked along I noticed a telephone booth up ahead and my eyes widened when I saw Edward standing inside. I tried to put my hand up to cover my face, but as soon as I spotted him, his eyes turned and caught sight of me. I saw his mouth move quickly before he put the telephone back on it's hook. He rushed out of the booth and over to me.

"Hello, Wendy. What are you doing out this fine afternoon?"

"I am bringing mother flour for the cake tonight," I said simply, trying to pick up the pace, but the skirt I was wearing was very binding. It was pinching me at the knees and wrapping around my lower legs tightly, making it difficult for me to walk, even with small steps and a slow pace; I almost had to hobble down the street. I never would understand why these skirts were so popular among women, they could hardly be walked in!

"May I escort you home?" he asked, holding out an arm.

"It's really not necessary…" I started to say, but he held up a hand to silence me.

"I insist," he stated firmly. I knew there would be no way to get rid of him, so I gave in and took his outstretched arm. We walked in silence; Edward was comfortable with it, but since I loved to talk, I hated it. When I finally got to my door I turned to Edward and nodded.

"Thank you," I said briskly. Edward tipped his hat and started down the street. I quickly dodged inside and walked into the kitchen to find my mother busily mixing ingredient in a bowl.

"Thank you, Wendy," she said, setting down the bowl to take the flour from my hands. She looked down at my skirt and a smile played at the corner of her lips. "Go up and change into another gown for tonight, your skirt has a bit of mud on the hem."

My cheeks flushed pink when I looked down and saw dirt all along the hemline. I dashed up to my room and changed into a dress for tonight's celebration—one that didn't bind my legs and allowed me to move freely. As I was smoothed the folds of my dress I heard a soft knock on my door and went over to open it. I found Michael standing there with a bored expression on his face.

"Wendy, can you tell me a Peter Pan story?" he asked. With a smile, I opened the door for him to come in. He ran over to my bed and hopped up on it.

"Which one would you like to hear?"

"One with Captain Hook."

"Alright…well, there was this one time when Captain Hook stole Tinker Bell from Peter Pan, and Peter and the Lost Boys went to rescue her…" I began.

When I was done with the story Michael had a troubled look on his face, unlike the previous times when I told him stories and he beamed at me when they were over.

"What's wrong, Michael?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How come Captain Hook never wins?" he asked.

"Because he's the bad guy, and the good guy always wins."

Michael furrowed his eyebrows before responding. "John says that Peter Pan isn't real because in real life the good guys don't always win, and sometimes the bad guys are actually the good guys."

"Well, I suppose that's true sometimes," I admitted. I had never thought about that before.

"Wendy, do you think that maybe Captain Hook is really the good guy, and Peter is the bad guy?" he asked, his wide, innocent eyes full of worry. I shook my head fervently before smiling at him.

"No, Michael. Peter Pan is definitely the good guy," I said before reaching out to tickle Michael. He tried to dart away but I caught him and he fell back onto the bed laughing, trying to escape from my grasp. After a minute I pulled away.

"And you shouldn't believe everything John says. Wanna know why?" I asked. Michael sat up and smiled.

"Why?"

"Because Peter Pan has never, ever lost a fight to that dastardly Captain Hook, and he never will."

* * *

**My story is based on the 1953 Disney version, but I modeled Hook's temperment and his looks after the 2003 live-action movie. So, it's basically a mixture of both. Hope you enjoy! :)**


	2. Old Enemies

I sat in front of my mirror, fixing my hair since Edward and his parents would be arriving soon. My hair was delicately arranged: Big, corkscrew curls draped across my shoulders, just like when I was younger—although they were much longer now. On either side of my face was a small, loose curl. The rest of my hair was pulled back into a bun at the back of my head.

Suddenly a figure appeared in the mirror and I turned around to see my mother standing in the doorway of my bedroom.

"Oh, Wendy, you look so beautiful! You've grown up so much that I hardly recognize you anymore," she said as she walked over to me. I could see her eyes glistening with tears she was trying to hold back.

"Oh, mother. I'll always be your little girl," I said as she pulled me into a hug. Suddenly the doorbell chimed and mother pulled away.

"That must be the Jones' here already," she said, rushing out of my room. I took one last look into the mirror, longing to see the little, twelve-year old girl I once knew. The one who saw the world through big, innocent eyes; I longed to go back to the time when everything was simpler, when I didn't have to worry about marriage, and my biggest fear was of growing up.

I took a deep breath before walking out of my room and descending the stairs. Michael and John were already at the base of the stairs, dressed in their finest waistcoats and trousers. I spotted Edward standing next to his parents, lingering just inside the doorway. Edward had on a button-down white shirt and a cream-colored waistcoat, with a black coat and trousers to match. He had a top hat on, but quickly took it off when he saw me descending the stairs; a sign of respect. His father, who stood beside him, wore a similar suit, and his mother was in the latest fashion with one of those binding skirts wrapped around her legs.

Soon we were all called into the back room and sat down for dinner. When it was over Edward and I, along with our parents, retired to the drawing room at the front of the house. My father and Edward's sat in front of the fireplace, smoking on their pipes while our mother's sat on a couch, discussing the latest fashion trends and the new pillow my mother was embroidering. Since John and Michael were too young to join us in the drawing room they were sent up to the room they shared for the rest of the night. Edward and I were left alone on the couch that sat against the wall—as far away from our parents as the room allowed.

"You look lovely this evening, Wendy," he said softly. I smiled politely and looked down at the light purple gown I was wearing.

"Thank you. I bought it at a store in London just a couple weeks ago. My mother and I were in town for some fabric for my brother's trousers, which had a tear in them from him roughhousing with a couple of boys at school. We passed a store and I saw this dress, and my mom and I thought it would be perfect for tonight, and I loved it since it reminded me of a dress she wore exactly eight years ago to the day. It was the same color and everything, although the styles have changed a bit in those years, so of course there are a few differences. For instance, her dress had-" I blabbered on, but Edward chuckled before raising a finger to my lips.

"Sometimes you talk a little too much, Wendy," he said, but a worried expression crossed his face, like he worried that his comment would offend me. Well, he need not worry about that, Peter said almost the same exact thing all those years ago…although it was said in a more blunt way. But that's what I always loved about him—he was so open with what he thought, even if it was a little insensitive at times.

"Peter said the same thing," I mumbled to myself, forgetting for a minute that Edward was sitting next to me on the couch. I suddenly looked up, remembering his presence there, to see a slightly perturbed look on his face.

"Wendy…" he began, but I cut him off.

"Edward, I know you don't believe in Peter Pan, but he _is_ real! I went to Never Land with him and I-" I started to defend myself, but Edward furrowed his eyebrows and a frown passed over his lips.

"Wendy, I have never spoken a word against your very vivid imagination, but enough is enough! These…these _delusions _must _stop!_" he snapped. My eyes began to well up with tears; he had never spoken to me like this before. How could I live with someone who was so against what I fervently believed in?

"But…but they're not delusions…" I said softly. When Edward saw the expression on my face he let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Wendy. I didn't mean for that to come out so harshly. But you must stop insisting these wild stories are true. They make good stories, but they cannot possibly be true," he said gently, wiping a stray tear away that had fallen from my troubled eyes. I simply nodded and looked away. For the rest of the evening we sat in silence, and for once I appreciated it. I did not feel like talking to that man…

When the time came for the Jones' to leave Edward stood up and gave my hand a kiss. He leaned forward right before he left and whispered in my ear, "I cannot wait for our marriage tomorrow."

_I certainly can,_ I thought to myself. After they left I retired to my bedroom and changed into a long purple nightgown. I sat on my bed, taking my hair out of it's bun and brushing through the knots with my fingers. After a while a shadow appeared at my feet and I looked up to see my mother standing in the doorway, looking intently at me.

"Mother?" I asked, wondering why she was simply standing there. She didn't answer, but rather, stepped inside my room and closed the door behind her.

"Wendy, I know you are apprehensive about your marriage tomorrow, I can sense it." She walked over to my bed and sat down next to me.

"I too went through the same thing when I was about your age," she said, putting a hand over mine, and I looked up in surprise. Mother had never told me this before.

"You did?"

"Yes, my father also chose my husband for me when I was only seventeen and I was married scarcely a year later to George. At first I was a bit nervous about marrying him, but I realized he was a kind and sensible man, and he won my heart two weeks after we met. I know you have butterflies, and that is understandable, but everything will turn out alright," she said, moving a stray lock of hair away from my face.

"But you loved father. I don't think I love Edward," I protested softly.

"Sometimes love is a choice. Edward is good for you, he can provide you with a good life. You will have a big house and darling little children to fill it with. You will never have to know poverty like my poor sister had to go through." A sadness passed through my mother's eyes like a storm cloud, but quickly evaporated when she turned her blue eyes back to me.

"You had a sister?" She had never told me about this either. How much of my mother was I unaware of? How much was kept a secret in her own heart?

"Yes, but I do not like to speak of her since it only makes me remember what happened to her." I knew I shouldn't ask about something that caused my mother distress, so I kept my mouth closed, but my eyes must have betrayed me.

"I can see you want to know what happened," she said, looking deeply into my eyes before taking a deep breath.

"She was my younger sister, so as the oldest I was, of course, married first. When my sister turned seventeen her turn came for my father to choose a husband for her, and that he did. He was a young man with a fortune, much like your father had been. He was a jolly fellow with a sense of humor that made everyone around him laugh, but a month before they were to be married she fell in love with a man she met on the streets. He was a coal miner with barely enough money to feed himself, but she ran away with him the night before she was supposed to marry the man father had chosen for her. At first she seemed happy with her choice, but then poverty hit them when he realized he didn't have enough to feed the both of them, and they had a little baby coming soon. About a year later there was an accident in the mines and the man died, leaving my sister alone with their baby. She tried to get work, but she wasn't paid enough for them to live on and she…"

Tears welled up in my mother's eyes. I quickly grabbed a handkerchief from my pocket and handed it to her. She held it up to her nose and dabbed at her eyes before continuing.

"She died of starvation and the baby went to an orphanage," she finished. "Sometimes we must do what we _should_ do, instead of what we _want_ to do."

I nodded in understanding before she leaned forward and kissed my forehead. She stood up and went to walk out, but stopped at the door and turned around to face me.

"Remember to say your prayers tonight, Wendy, before you go to bed," she instructed me. I nodded in understanding. Ever since I moved out of the nursery and into my own room, my nightly prayers between me and God were sort of a routine.

I got out of bed and walked over to the double windows with the seat on the window frame. It was exactly like the window in the nursery, and for that I was grateful. Back when I was a child, sitting on the soft cushion by the window had been a favorite pastime of mine. Sometimes I would sit and read a book and other times I would stay up late to look at the stars in the distance.

I slowly walked over to the window and threw it wide open before kneeling down before the seat and folding my hands. I closed my eyes and turned my face heavenward—something that always made God seem closer.

"Dear God…" I began, searching for the right words, "I'm scared. I don't want to grow up, I want to have adventures and go on daring quests like I did when I went to Never Land all those years ago. So, if it isn't too much to ask, could I go on one last adventure before I have to get married tomorrow? Even if it's only in the form of a very vivid dream, please let me go on one more adventure before my life as I know it, is taken away from me," I pleaded before bowing my head and being silent for a moment. "Amen."

With a sigh I opened my eyes and stood up, looking out at the stars. One in particular made me smile. The second star to the right. _And straight on till morning_, my mind finished for me. I picked up the end of my nightgown and sat down on the cushion, leaning forward on my hands and looking out at the stars. If this was to be my last day in this house I wanted to spend it right here, on this cushion near the window, with the windows wide open to let in the night breeze and give me the best view of the stars. I would spend my last night here, remembering my adventures with Peter Pan and hoping, perhaps foolishly, for one last adventure before the morning sun peeked over the chimney tops of these London houses. I laid down and yawned as I brought my arm up and used it as a pillow. I drew my legs up to my chest and started to drift into unconsciousness.

A sudden banging noise jolted me awake and my head sprang up from it's resting place. I looked out the window frantically to see if the windows had banged shut while I was asleep, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. I let out a sigh and turned around only to have my breath hitch in my throat and a cold sensation race through my veins, freezing me in place.

A hooded figure dressed in black stood in my bedroom, right beside my bed. The hood threw shadows over the face, obscuring it from my view. I could feel a scream building in the back of my throat; my senses started to work again. Suddenly the figure reached up and threw their hood back, revealing a face that had haunted my dreams for eight years now.

"Captain Hook?" I breathed, my eyes widening. Even though I was scared out of my mind, I realized my memory was certainly reliable. He looked the same as the last time I saw him, and yet something was different about him…something I couldn't quite place my finger on…

He had on the same outfit as always under this new black cloak he now wore. Small, black curls framed his face as they draped across his shoulders and went well past them. Cold eyes as blue as the sky in springtime stared back into my dark blue ones, and his lips curved into a wicked smile.

"Wendy Darling," he said with a slight chuckle, "it's been too long."

Three pirates suddenly stepped out from the shadows in my room, revealing swords and other weapons. Hook brought a finger up to his chin and stroked it in thought as his eyes scanned over me.

"You look different," he said, his eyes taking a minute to look me over before clearing his throat, "But nevertheless…"

He snapped his fingers to the three pirates behind him and pointed at me. "Bag her."


	3. Kidnapped

I darted to my right, the quickest way to the door, but a pirate lunged forward, cutting me off. I screamed and stumbled backwards, hitting my back on the vanity and knocking a few items to the ground. The three pirates lunged forward, grabbing my arms and twisting them behind my back. I opened my mouth to scream, but felt a hand cover it before I could. I struggled against their grip, but I knew it was of no use; they were much stronger than I.

Suddenly a bag slipped over my head and I felt myself being lifted from the ground and thrown over something. I screamed and screamed, but they made no move to keep me quiet. For a second I considered that maybe this was God's way of being ironic—giving me the adventure I wanted, but not in the way I wanted it. My thinking was cut short when I felt the bag fly through the air before landing on something hard. My elbow hit the ground with a crack but when the pain dulled down I felt my arm for any signs that it was broken. I let out a sigh when I realized that it wasn't, even if it hurt like it was.

"Raise the anchor and set sail for Neverland!" I heard Captain Hook yell over the clamor on deck. Suddenly I felt the ground lurch beneath me and I fell over onto my back, desperately trying to find a way out of the sack. After what felt like hours—although it was probably only a few minutes—I felt the ship jerk beneath me and I heard the splash of water and the caw of seagulls above.

"What are your orders, Captain?" I heard a crew member call out.

"Throw the girl in the brig and wait for Peter Pan to show up," Captain Hook ordered. Suddenly I felt the ground leave my feet and heard a grunt. A few moments later the top of the bag opened and sunlight poured in. I was suddenly dumped upside down and I felt my head hit the cold stone floor as I tumbled out of the bag.

With a groan of pain I sat up as I rubbed my head, trying to ease the pain. I saw a pirate on the other side of a barred iron door, messing with the lock. A quick look around the room was all it took to realize I was in a jail-like cell. Jumping up, I reached the door just as the pirate took a step back. I banged my fists against the metal bars and screamed.

"Let me out!"

I closed my eyes as tears built up behind them and finally opened them to see the pirate standing there with an evil grin on his face.

"Ye won't be release until the cap'n gits what he wants!" he said before turning around and walking back up the stairs. I pounded on the bars once more before turning around with a huff and walking over to the wooden bench against the wall. It was nailed there and held upright by chains on eiter side of the wooden bench that connected to the wall. I sat down and brought my knees up to my chest when I saw a rat scurry over the straw-covered ground.

What did Captain Hook want with me? I hadn't been to Neverland in eight years. I had nothing of worth to him, and nothing to do with Peter Pan in the last few years, so what could he possibly gain in kidnapping me? I sat there on the bench and strained to hear what was happening up on deck, but all I could hear from the barred window behind me was the sound of waves hitting the side of the boat. I leaned over on the bench and closed my eyes, only planning on resting for a few moments...

When I woke up the room was darker than before and I stood up on the bench to see the sun had almost reached the horizon. Suddenly there was a clamor from up above and I pressed my ear against the metal bars, straining to hear what was going on.

"Let Wendy go, Hook!" I heard Peter demand, and my heart soared with joy at the sound of his voice. Peter had come to save me!

"You won't win this time, Peter Pan!" Captain Hook declared, his voice smug. "I have your precious Wendy locked up, and unless you do exactly as I say, she'll die!" A shudder ran through my body and I reached up to grip the iron poles.

"What is it that you want, Hook?"

"I want the treasure you and those boys _stole_ from me and I want your total surrender!"

"Don't do it, Peter!" I screamed as I pressed my face against the bars, hoping he could hear me.

"Wendy?" I heard Peter call out. Suddenly there was a big thud, and then I heard the doors that led down to where I was fly open. I jumped down from the bench and ran over to the bars to see Peter at the top of the stairs.

"Wendy!" he cried, running over to me. When he got to the bars his smile disappeared and he stared at me in shock.

"Wendy…" He shook his head and his eyes darted away for a minute before looking back up at me again.

"You…you changed," he whispered. His eyes hardened and he drew his lips into a fine line. "You grew up."

"Peter, listen to me." I reached through the bars to grab his hand, and he turned to look at me with a frown on his face. "I'm still the same Wendy I was eight years ago. I've grown up a little, but I haven't changed one bit!"

Peter's face softened and I saw the start of a smile pull at the corner's of his lips before he turned back to me.

"I'll get you out of there, Wendy!"

He pulled on the iron bars but when they wouldn't budge he let out a frustrated groan. I clutched the bars and stared at Peter as he pulled out his knife and tried to jam it through the lock.

Like Captain Hook, Peter hadn't changed in the least. He had on the same green clothes and his signature green hat with the red feather sticking out from the top. His light brown eyes darted up to mine for a second and his red hair flopped over his forehead as he hit the lock with his knife.

Suddenly Captain Hook appeared at the top of the stairs, his good hand clutching his side and a look of pain on his face. When he saw Peter standing there, unable to get me out, he smirked.

"The only way to get her out is with a key that I have hidden. You can either give me my treasure back and surrender, or you can watch her die!"

"I don't have your treasure, Hook! The Indian's took it a few days ago and hid it. I don't know where it is!"

"Then you better find it, Pan!" Hook demanded, pulling his sword from it's sheath. Peter turned back to me with a lost look on his face, the face of an innocent child that didn't know what to do.

"I'll come back for you Wendy!" he whispered to me before flying up the stairs, pushing Captain Hook back before taking off. Hook quickly jumped back up with a scowl on his face.

"You have one month, Pan! One month to find my treasure and surrender to me, or Wendy will die!" he cried as he ran up on deck, slamming the double doors behind him and shutting out some of the light. I numbly walked over to the bench and sat down before burying my face in my hands. I wanted adventure and excitement, but not like this!

* * *

The rocking of the ship kept me from sleeping all night and made me slightly nauseous. My head swam from the hit it received earlier and the swaying motion of the ship. I reached up and felt a lump forming on the side of my head, and winced in pain when I touched it. I looked down at my nightgown that was now dirty and muddy and saw loose curls falling into my face with stray bits of straw sticking out from random places.

Suddenly there was a big boom, and I felt something wet hit my head. I got up on my knees and turned around to look through my barred window. Storm clouds were blowing in from the horizon, blocking the sun and making it seem like nighttime. Suddenly a steady drizzle came through my window, hitting me in the face. I sat back down on the bench, but the rain came in at an angle and drenched my back.

I stood up, shivering from the cold, and walked over to the dry straw next to the iron bars. I leaned against them and let out a frustrated sigh. When I saw a rat scurry over to a crumb of bread under the bench I shivered again, but this time it wasn't from the cold. I wrapped my arms around myself in an effort to stay warm as I leaned over in the straw and tried to fall asleep.

All through the night the slightest noises woke me up and the straw scratched against any exposed skin, making it hard to fall asleep. When I finally did fall asleep I was restless, tossing and turning. I was awoken the next morning when rays of early morning light shone in through the window, directly into my eyes.

I tried to sit up but suddenly felt a nauseous feeling in my stomach and laid back down on the straw. Suddenly I heard a door open and footsteps descending the stairs. I forced myself into a sitting position to see Mr. Smee walking towards my cell with a smile on his face and a bowl of steaming soup in his hands.

"Here you are, Miss," he said, opening the door a little and putting the bowl on the floor next to me. He gave me a smile before starting up the stairs again.

"Mr. Smee…" I called out and he stopped on the top step and turned around. "May I have a blanket? It's awfully cold in here."

"Of course. I'll be right back, Miss," he said before disappearing up the stairs. A minute later he came back with a thin blanket and handed it to me. I grabbed it and wrapped it around my shivering body. I reached for the bowl of soup and tipped it up, drinking it as fast as I could. It burned going down my throat, but did nothing to warm me up. I walked over to the wet bench and sat down, pulling the fabric tighter around my body. With a sigh I laid down on the bench and curled up into a ball, trying to fall asleep.

I was woken up when I felt coughs rock through my chest. My eyes snapped open and I tried to ignore the aching feeling in my bones whenever a violent cough shook me. When the coughing finally stopped I leaned my head back, exhausted. My entire body ached and chills ran up and down my spine.

Time seemed to pass in a blur, and the next thing I knew I heard the lock of the cell door turning. I cracked my eyes open to see Mr. Smee standing there, a bowl of soup in his hand.

"Miss, are you alright?" he asked, taking in my appearance. I shook my head, making it throb. Another chill rocked my body and I struggled to pull the blanket closer to my trembling form.

"Everything aches," I whispered. Mr. Smee put the bowl of soup down and walked over to me. He placed a hand against my forehead and pulled back a moment later, his eyes widening.

"Oh no, this is not good. Not good at all," he mumbled to himself.

"W-what's wrong?" I whispered, not able to keep the fear out of my voice.

"I'll be back right soon, Miss." I watched him disappear, closing the iron door behind him. I closed my eyes as another chill shook me, causing my aching bones to scream at it in response. My eyes filled with tears of frustration, pain, and fear. Why did Mr. Smee look so afraid? What was wrong with me?

I felt a tear slip down my cheek at the thought of dying in this cell: cold, scared, and alone.

* * *

Mr. Smee avoided the boisterous crew outside and walked straight to the Captain's cabin, not bothering to knock this time. When Captain Hook heard his door open he looked up to see Mr. Smee standing there.

"What is it, Mr. Smee?" he asked, irritated that he had been interrupted from writing in his Captain's Log.

"The girl has come down with influenza," he explained. Hook didn't even bat an eye.

"And why should I care?" he asked with a wave of his feathered pen.

"Because if she dies then you'll have nothing to use against Pan."

Hook looked away in thought. "Yes, you're right," he mumbled. He let out a sigh. "Alright, then take care of it, Mr. Smee."

"But Captain, she has to be moved from that damp cell."

"Then _move_ her," Captain Hook said, losing his patience.

"She needs to be moved somewhere warm and dry, and the only place on this ship like that is…" Mr. Smee trailed off.

"Yes, Mr. Smee?" Hook said through clenched teeth.

"The only place warm and dry is your cabin, Captain," he said, fearing his reaction.

"Absolutely not!" he snapped.

"But Captain, if she should die from this-"

"Just move her to the Crew's quarters," Hook said with a dismissive sweep of his hand.

"That won't do, Captain, the Crew's quarters are much too drafty and wet, and yours is the only room on the ship with a fireplace," Mr. Smee explained, gesturing towards the large fireplace against the wall that was warming the entire room.

"Couldn't you just wrap her up in a sail or something?" Hook growled, throwing his pen down on the desk.

"No, Captain."

Hook let out a sigh and rested his chin in his hand.

"Alright, she can stay here until she recovers. But as soon as she does, she goes back to the cell, and _you're_ taking care of her until she gets better."

"Yes, Captain," Mr. Smee said, turning to leave the room, but Hook's voice called him back.

"Oh, and Mr. Smee?"

He turned around to see an intense look on the Captain's face.

"If she should die…" Hook trailed off, making a cutting motion across his throat with his hook. Mr. Smee gulped before nodding.

"Yes, Captain."


	4. The Captain's Cabin

I shook uncontrollably, feeling my muscles begin to burn. Tears flowed from my eyes out of a mixture of pain and fear. Suddenly the lock turned on my cell door and I opened my weary eyes to see Mr. Smee walk over to me.

"I'm to take you to the Captain's cabin, miss," he said before bending over to pick me up. Fear filled my eyes and I shook my head, despite the pain.

"Oh, don't worry miss. You'll be warm and cozy there," he said as wrapped an arm around my shoulders and one arm around my legs. He lifted me about an inch off the bench before his arms fell and I tumbled back onto the bench. I winced in pain and bit down on my lip to keep from crying out. Mr. Smee reached down again and tried to pick me up but this time he couldn't even lift me off the bench. Finally he let out a sigh and stepped back.

"I can't seem to pick you up, miss," he said, and then he looked off at the stone wall as he scratched his head. "I'll be right back."

* * *

Mr. Smee ran back to the captain's cabin and knocked this time before he walked in. When Hook looked up and saw Mr. Smee without the girl he scowled.

"Mr. Smee, didn't I tell you to bring the girl here?" Captain Hook snapped at him.

"Yes, Captain, but you see….well, I can't seem…"

"What is it?!" Captain Hook bellowed.

"I can't pick her up," he admitted, looking down at the ground. Captain Hook rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh before standing up from his desk.

"Can't pick her up? She's a girl, how heavy can she be?!" Hook yelled. When Mr. Smee didn't reply Hook exhaled sharply and stuck his feathered pen back in the inkwell.

"If you want something done, you've got to do it yourself…" he mumbled under his breath as he pushed past Mr. Smee and walked down to the brig.

* * *

A few minutes after Mr. Smee left, I heard the door at the top of the stairs open and saw Captain Hook walk down toward my cell with Mr. Smee in tow. He unlocked the cell door and walked over to me. I tried to scoot away but my muscles wouldn't comply.

Hook simply leaned over and scooped me up before turning and walking up the stairs. I was too exhausted to protest anymore, so I let him carry me. I was surprised that Hook carried me like a groom carries a bride, instead of just throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He was almost gentlemen-like.

When we got to his room Mr. Smee opened the door for us and Hook walked inside before dropping me unceremoniously onto his bed. My sore body screamed protests at me in the form of pain, and any thoughts I previously had of him being a gentlemen vanished completely.

Hook turned and walked over to his desk on the other side of the room before sitting down. I closed my eyes and a minute later I heard the scratch of pen against paper. Suddenly I heard the door groan as it opened and I looked up to see Mr. Smee walk in with a bowl of water and a small towel.

He hummed a tune as he walked over to me and pulled up a stool beside my bed. He grabbed the sheets at the end of the bed and brought them up to my chin before picking up the towel and dipping it in the water. He hummed as he wrung the towel out before placing it on my forehead.

"You'll be all better in a few days, miss," he said, patting my shoulder before walking out of the room again. He returned a few minutes later with a bowl of soup. He sat there and fed me the soup and when I was done he took the towel off my forehead and placed it next to the bowl of water.

He walked out of the room and when I looked around I suddenly realized I was alone in the room with Captain Hook. An uneasy feeling bubbling up inside my stomach, but I was determined not to let him see how scared I was of him. I snuggled deeper into the pillow and tried to get my aching muscles to relax. I fixed my eyes on Captain Hook, determined not to fall asleep, but when your body and mind are screaming for rest, what else can you do but comply?

* * *

The Captain sat at his desk, writing about the day's events in his log book. Every now and then he would look up and glance at Wendy, lying fast asleep on his bed. Every now and then she would twitch, or she would shudder, but other than that she remained motionless.

Time passed and eventually Hook noticed that the sun was dipping below the ocean horizon. He put away his log book and when he turned to walk over to his bed, he realized his dilemma. Since Wendy was sleeping in his bed he didn't have anywhere to sleep, and he wasn't about to share a bed with a sick person. He looked over at the chair he was sitting in earlier, but quickly dismissed the idea. He exhaled sharply in frustration, looking around for somewhere decent. He spotted the rug in front of the fire and shrugged. It would have to do for now; he just hoped Wendy got better soon so he could get his bed back.

He walked over to the bed and grabbed a folded up blanket from the end before walking back to the fireplace. He put another log in it before spreading the blanket over the rug and lying down. He pulled the wool blanket over his body and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep. Well, at least he would be warm…

When Hook was awakened, it wasn't by the breaking of daylight, nor was it even light outside. Hook looked around groggily before lighting a lamp and looking around for whatever it was that woke him up.

He heard a groaning noise and turned to see Wendy moving around on his bed. She was kicking in her sleep, and she kept moving her arms, like she was trying to push something off her. Her blanket lay in a heap at her ankles, and the covers of the bed were wrapped around her legs, tangling them up inside the sheets. With a frustrated sigh he walked over to Wendy and realized she was thrashing around in her sleep. He set the lamp down and yanked the covers from around her ankles.

She stopped kicking but started moving her head from side to side, a frown on her sleeping face. Hook looked over at the towel and bowl of water that Mr. Smee had left there. He remembered what he had done with it earlier and dipped the dry towel into the water. He gave me one ring before placing it on her forehead, watching stray water droplets slip from the towel and make a trail down her forehead and nose. As soon as the towel touched her skin she stopped moving and became still. Hook almost breathed out in relief.

He looked down at the sleeping girl on his bed and took in her appearance. He took in her red nose and rosy cheeks, pink from the fever, with drops of perspiration on her neck and cheeks. He almost felt something like pity for the poor girl, but quickly shook his head. He couldn't let himself feel sorry for her; she was just the pawn, a prisoner to get what he wanted from Pan.

She looked different though, from when he last saw her in Neverland. She'd been a mere child then, her face round and babyish; now her face was more defined with high cheekbones and soft features. When he first saw her in her room he wasn't sure if it was the same girl, but when he noticed the big curls in her hair and those dark blue eyes staring back at him in fear, he knew for sure that it was her.

Even though she'd changed on the outside her spirit seemed to stay the same, as well her maturity. The way she held her head high even when she was walking off the plank—that courage was still there, even while she lay on the bed, sick almost to the point of death. Even as a child she showed more maturity than Pan ever did. She'd changed only in appearance since then, but that change was a lot in itself. She wasn't the little girl he knew all those years ago, she was a woman now…and Hook wasn't too sure how he felt about that.

He left the rag on her forehead and picked up the lamp, blowing it out before walking back to his makeshift bed by the fire and trying to fall asleep once again.

* * *

When I woke up I felt something soft and wet on my forehead. I cracked my eyes open and reached up to find the towel from yesterday on my forehead. I pulled it off and set it back next to the water bowl. I knew I didn't go to sleep with it on my forehead; had Mr. Smee been in here during the night?

I pulled my hand away from the towel and realized that my muscles weren't aching as badly as before, even though they still throbbed with every movement. I snuggled deeper in the covers and closed my weary eyes.

I can't remember exactly how long I was asleep, but when I did wake up the sun was midway in the sky, signaling it was be around ten or twelve in the morning. I lifted my head up a little but didn't see Hook anywhere. Suddenly the door swung open, startling me.

I jumped and turned to see Mr. Smee walking over to me, a bowl of soup in his hands. I resisted the urge to let out a groan and scrunch my nose up at the sight. If that's what I have to eat for a month, I'm going to get sick of it!

"Good morning, Mr. Smee," I said politely.

"Morning, miss," he said before sitting down next to me. He set the bowl down on the table next to him and got a spoonful of soup before raising it to my mouth. When the soup was all gone I smiled at him.

"I must thank you for your kindness."

"It's not needed, miss," he replied, blushing.

"It is. You didn't have to come and check on me in the middle of the night," I replied. Mr. Smee looked up at me in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about, miss?"

"I'm talking about when you came in here last night and put the towel on my forehead. That was very kind of you."

"But I didn't, miss."

It was my turn to be confused. "But I didn't fall asleep with it there, and if you didn't do it…then who did?"

Suddenly a grin started to spread across Mr. Smee face and he let out a small chuckle.

"It must have been the Captain, miss! It's like I keep telling everyone, he's not such a bad guy after all!" he exclaimed. I thought different, but I remained silent.

"Smee! _Smee!_ The croc is after me, Mr. Smee!" I heard the Captain Hook's voice yell from outside. Mr. Smee jumped up and ran for the door.

"I'm coming, Captain!" Mr. Smee yelled as he ran out the door, closing it behind him.

"Don't let him get me, Mr. Smee! Oh Please, don't let him get me!" I heard him wail, and I chuckled to myself. After all he put me through I hope the croc gets his other hand!

As soon as the thought crossed my mind I felt a frown slide across my face. I shouldn't think that; if Smee was telling the truth then Captain Hook had been kind to me. He'd been kind to my even though he didn't have to.

Suddenly the door burst open and Captain Hook rushed in, hastily slamming the door behind him. He had a terrified look on his face as he took deep breaths, leaning against the door. His eyes suddenly flitted over to me, and he inhaled sharply when he noticed me sitting there, staring back at him. He cleared his throat and stood up straight, an indifferent look replacing the one of terror I saw only a few moments earlier. He strode over to his desk with his head held high, not even giving me another look. By now I was quite amused by his behavior. He sat down at his desk and when he reached for his feather pen I noticed that his red coat was cut, exposing a red line of blood underneath.

"You're bleeding," I blurted out without thinking. He looked down at his arm and seemed to notice it for the first time. He pulled off his coat and reached in the drawer before pulling out a strip of cloth. I rolled his shirt sleeve up and then wrapped the cloth around his wound. As I watched the red blood seep through the bandage I felt a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. It felt like pity…but...but that was absurd! Why would I pity someone like Captain Hook? Why did I feel this way? He's been nothing but rude to me since he kidnapped me from my own bedroom, and yet…he had shown a bit of kindness last night. Why did he do it? And why did I feel bad about wishing him ill will? Maybe it was because I hadn't thanked him for what he did.

"I...um...wanted to thank you," I started slowly, and Captain Hook looked up at me in surprise before narrowing his eyes at me.

"For what?" he asked gruffly.

"For your kindness last night. For putting the towel on my forehead," I explained. He just stared at me, expressionless, for a minute or two before letting out a grunt and nodding. He picked his feathered pen back up and began writing in his book, as the familiar scratch of pen against paper filled the room.

I bit down on my lip in confusion when the nagging feeling in my stomach didn't go away. Why did I still feel bad about him getting hurt? Surely he deserved it, didn't he?

But still the question remained.


	5. More Than You Might Think

I don't know how much time passed after that, because haziness swept over my mind like a fog rolling in over the moorlands. It was like walking through a room filled with smoke. I wasn't able to see, but something kept me pushing forward through the confusion—maybe the hope of a clear view when it was all over.

Only dull versions of my senses made it through the fog. I heard voices like they were being whispered down a tunnel—unclear and impossible to decipher. There was the occasional notes of a piano that drifted through my mind. Then there were the shadows that passed over me—sometimes overcoming me and dragging me down into the darkness with them. There was the constant taste of soup in my mouth, slipping down my throat, and the cold sensation of metal against my lips. The only thing I knew was tiredness, washing over me like waves, keeping me from dragging myself out from under the water to the surface. It felt so good to just lie there, not knowing what was going on around me, or even where I was.

I don't know how long I was like this, but when the fog finally lifted from me, and I cracked my eyes open to see the room around me without the haze, I smiled. I didn't know if it was morning, or evening, but I could see the room was empty.

A roaring fire sat in the fireplace, and I could feel the heat all the way across the room. My muscles still felt sore, but they didn't ache like they had before. I sat up and for the first time in…awhile, I didn't want to cry out in pain. I stretched out my feet and hands, feeling all the tension leaving them. I rubbed my eyes and when I opened them again I finally had a clear view of the room. Right above my bedside table was a closed port hole, too high up for me to reach, and probably too small for me to fit through, as if slipping through it would do any good once I fell into the water down below.

To my left, against the wall, was a three-paneled window with an alcove in it, just like the one in my room. My spirits picked up and I slowly pushed the cover's away as I stood up. I slowly made my way across the room and when I got to the windows I dropped down onto the cushioned sheet with a huff. Even though I was feeling better it still took all my strength to make the small walk across the room. I mustered up my strength and gave each of the windows a hard tug, but my spirits dropped to my feet when they held tightly shut. I slammed my hands against the windows in frustration, but that only made my arms groan in pain. Looks like I wouldn't be finding an escape anytime soon.

I looked to my left and saw the Captain's desk nestled in the corner, with a big wardrobe sitting against the wall right next to it. A little ways away, against a wall all it's own, was the roaring fireplace, and I knew somebody must have been here recently to put more logs in it.

Against the wall to the right of my bed was a grand piano that seemed to big for the room. I stared at it's elegant design in amazement. My dad bought me a piano when I was thirteen as part of my training to be a lady, but even that was not as grand as this one. I longed to walk over to it and stroke the smooth mahogany wood, or play a simple tune on the glistening ivory keys, but I knew the trip to the opposite side of the room would be too much right now.

With a sigh I stood up on wobbly legs and walked back to the bed. I was a foot or two away from the bed when the door suddenly flew open and I jumped in alarm—expecting Captain Hook. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw it was only Mr. Smee. If Captain Hook saw me up he'd get suspicious and wonder if I really was sick.

When Mr. Smee saw me walking back to my bed he stopped mid-step and his eyes grew wide. Then, his lips spread into a grin and his eyes seemed to light up.

"Well, I see you're feeling better, miss," he stated with a smile.

"Thanks to your good care," I said as I sat down on the bed. Mr. Smee just shrugged away my compliment but I could see an embarrassed blush spreading across his cheeks. "Really, thank you for taking such good care of me."

"Oh, it was nothing, miss," he said as he pulled up a stool. I took the bowl from his hands and fed myself for the first time in…

"Mr. Smee, how long was I sick?" I asked suddenly.

"Oh, you've been on this boat for about eight days now," he said, stroking his chin as he stared at the wall in thought. I felt a panic begin. I only had three more weeks now. I just hope Peter Pan will be able to rescue me without surrendering. Then I shook the thought away and frowned. _Of course_ he will save me, he's Peter Pan! He's never lost a fight to Captain Hook and he never will!

I looked down at the carpet and suddenly saw a big stain on it. I raised an eyebrow in surprise. The rest of the room was spotless, and Captain Hook seemed like somebody who always kept everything in tip-top shape.

"What is that?" I asked Mr. Smee, pointing to the stain on the carpet right next to the bed.

"Ah, um…well, you see, we had a bit of a problem keeping the soup down once you drank it, with you being sick and all…" he explained, and I felt sick at the thought of it.

"I was pretty sick…" I whispered to myself, but Mr. Smee heard it and nodded.

"For a while there we thought we were gonna lose you, but now you're making great improvements," Mr. Smee said, taking the now empty bowl from my hands. "The Captain will be happy to hear that."

I seriously doubted 'the Captain' even cared if I was well or not, but I didn't voice my opinion. Mr. Smee had been so nice to me while I was sick, I would let him think whatever he wanted about Captain Hook.

Suddenly the door opened and Hook strode in. _Speak of the devil and he doth appear…_I thought to myself.

"Captain, we have great news," Mr. Smee piped up.

"Oh? And what is that?" he asked, though he barely sounded interested.

"Miss Wendy is feeling much better, and I expect she'll make a full recovery," Mr. Smee announced. This caught Captain Hook's attention, although I can't imagine why. He walked over to his desk and sat down before turning his cold blue eyes to me.

"Well, I am glad to hear that you are feeling better," he said, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" Did he actually care about my well-being? Did he actually care about _me_?

"Of course," he said before looking down at his desk, and I felt a smile play at my lips before he spoke again.

"You're of no use to me dead."

The start of a smile was wiped clean off my face. I was surprised to find that I actually cared. Why did I care if he cared about me or not? I was just his prisoner, why _would_ he?

"Not to mention the fact that there won't be any more…_stains_," Captain Hook said as he wrinkled his nose in disgust, "on the carpet or the bed sheets."

I narrowed my eyes at him but didn't say anything. Captain Hook simply turned his attention back to his desk and opened that book he was always writing in. He picked his pen up and dipped it in the inkwell. His pen was poised an inch above the paper when he suddenly looked back up at Mr. Smee, who was gathering up the bowl.

"Mr. Smee, can she be moved back to the brig?" he asked coldly. I shivered and my eyes widened in fear when I imagined being back in that damp and cold cell again. _Oh please, no. Please, no, _I chanted to myself in my head.

"She's not fully recovered yet, Captain," Mr. Smee said, and I breathed a sigh of relief when the Captain scowled before scribbling away at his paper. After Mr. Smee walked out, closing the door behind him, I snuggled back under the covers where I felt safer, and quickly fell asleep.

When I awoke it was to the sound of a piano. It sounded strangely familiar and the sound seeped into my dreams, where it twisted and winded around me. When it finally woke me up, I realized I'd heard it before—when I had been in my hazy state. I groggily opened my eyes and turned on my side to see Captain Hook sitting at the piano, playing it like a pro, even with a hook for a hand.

I watched in amazement as I recognized the tune as Beethoven. Even though I had been playing piano for eight years, I still had trouble with some Beethoven songs, especially Fur Elise, which he seemed to be playing flawlessly. When he finished his eyes snapped up and met mine. I felt my heart quicken when his eyes narrowed at me and I had to resisted the urge to hiding away under the covers for the next three weeks.

"What?" he snapped. I swallowed my fear and tried to hold my head high. My mother always told me that if I pretended like I wasn't afraid of something, then it wouldn't be so hard to face it.

"You play beautifully," I said, and Captain Hook's eyes widened in surprise for a second. He quickly looked away and turned back to the piano. He began to play a slow tune and it was my turn to be surprised when I finally recognized it.

"That's _My Heart_," I said in shock. It was a love song by Pierre Anton, written back in the late 1600's. It had words to it, but most people thought it sounded better without them, so people eventually forgot them. My mother told me when I was younger that father often played that song for her on the piano when they were courting.

"Yes," Captain Hook replied, not taking his eyes off the keys. I was surprised to see the look of concentration on his face, like his life depended on playing this song without a single flaw. When he was done he looked up and he saw the shocked expression on my face.

"What? You think mean ole Captain Hook doesn't know any love songs?" A smirk appeared on his face, and I realized he was joking. I smiled back.

"I didn't know Captain Hook knew anything about love," I joked back. The smile slowly slipped from his face and he turned back to the piano.

"I know more than you might think," I thought I heard him mumble. He only paused for a second before starting the song again with the same determined look as before.

* * *

**I'm baaaack! I blame college and my other stories for the two month wait. Also, I had the chapter partially written about a month ago, but then my stupid computer decided to crash and I lost all my progress. Anyways, this isn't as good as it was before I lost it, but I still think it's pretty good anyways. So, I hope you enjoy the chapter! =)**

**With Christmas break coming up soon I should have the next chapter up shortly.**

**Oh, and there is no piano song called ****_My Love _****written by Pierre whatever-his-last-name-was. I just made that up, but ****_A Thousand Years_**** (just the paino part) is an excellent example of what it should sound like. Just type ****_A Thousand Years piano_**** into youtube and click on the first link if you wanna hear what it sounds like. =)**


	6. Attempted Escape

I must have fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes again it was dark, lit only by the embers still burning in the fireplace. I sat up in bed and raised an eyebrow when I saw a dark figure sleeping in front of the fireplace. I squinted and realized that it was Captain Hook, fast asleep by the fire, covered by a blanket. Had he been sleeping there the whole week? I guess I should have known that; after all, where else would he sleep? Suddenly he turned over in his sleep and was now facing me. I crawled to the end of the bed and peered at his face curiously. It was the strangest sight I'd ever seen.

Whenever I looked at him before he always glared at me with those piercing blue eyes that felt like a pistol trained on me. He always had a hard expression on his face, like his lips were frozen in a permanent scowl…but now…now he had the most peaceful look on his face. His face was relaxed and for the first time since I was kidnapped, I wasn't scared of him. He didn't look like a monster, but more like a little boy sleeping.

He had loose curls hanging in his face, and the start of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He looked so…so innocent and harmless, even though I knew he was the furthest thing from it. I almost wanted to walk up to him and brush the curls away from his face, just like I always brushed Michael's hair away from his eyes every night as I tucked him into bed. I quickly furrowed my eyebrows and shook my head, as if shaking away the very thought. Hook was a cruel monster, no matter how harmless he looked right now. After all, Lucifer was once the Angel of Light, right?

I turned away and crawled back under the covers. I was about to close my eyes when I heard a moaning sound. I sat up and saw Captain Hook roll over in his sleep. For one split second I was worried he woke up, but a moment later he turned over again and I saw his eyes closed. His eyebrows twisted into a look of pain and his lips twisted into a grimace.

"No…please, no," he groaned softly in his sleep. "No, don't."

I raised an eyebrow at the strange sight of hearing Captain Hook _beg_. For what, I didn't know, but whatever it was that was scaring him must be something truly horrific, for he was the pure definition of evil.

"You can't…don't take…no!" he whispered in his sleep. I suddenly realized that he must be dreaming about the crocodile eating him; after all, what else could it be? Nothing else seemed capable of scaring Captain Hook.

"It can't be…you're lying!" he suddenly yelled. I jumped a little and suddenly his eyes shot open. I laid back down and pretended to be sleeping. He must not have seen me sitting up in his bed because a moment later he let out a sigh and in a few minutes the soft sound of snoring filled the room. I let out a sigh of relief and tried to calm my rapidly beating heart.

Ok, so maybe he wasn't dreaming about the croc…but then, what could it have been? Whatever it was that scared Captain Hook, must have been something awful…

When I woke up again, it was to the loud sound of something practically pounding on the piano keys. I cracked my eyes open to see sunlight streaming inside the cabin. I turned my eyes to the piano to see Captain Hook sitting in front of it, playing a familiar song. I sat up and resisted the urge to throw something at him for giving me such a rude awakening.

"Do you always play Chopsticks while someone is trying to sleep?" I asked. A cruel smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"Only when that someone is you," he said without even looking up or breaking his concentration. When he was done he began playing Fur Elise. I listened silently to the flawless playing of the song, when suddenly a sour note reached my ears. I looked up, expecting Captain Hook to correct his mistake, but he simply went on playing.

"That was wrong," I said before I could stop myself. He stopped suddenly and turned to face me with a scowl on his face.

"What?" he asked slowly, his piercing blue eyes trained on me. I suddenly felt my heartbeat quicken and clutched my gown from under the bed sheets.

"You played the wrong note…" I replied timidly. He raised an eyebrow, so I continued. "You played A when you should have played A sharp."

Captain Hook quickly snatched the piano booklet from it's stand on top of the piano and flipped to a page. A moment later he tossed it aside and let out what sounded like a growl. He turned his eyes to me and with his hook he slammed it against the A sharp key.

"Is that better, _Darling_?" he asked sarcastically. I nodded and Hook went back to playing the piano. When he was done with the song his fingers paused above the keys and he turned to me with a smirk.

"Let's see how much you really know about piano songs," he said and began playing a song I immediately recognized.

"Symphony number six in F major by Beethoven," I named. Captain Hook suddenly changed the song and it took me a minute to recognize the next one.

"English Suite No. 2 in A minor by Bach," I named, and just to make the Captain mad, I added, "Is this supposed to be hard?"

Captain Hook played six more songs, each of which I named, much to his chagrin. Finally, after I named the sixth one, he stood up with a fire in his eyes and took a step back. He turned towards me and gestured to the piano.

"Alright, now let's see how well you play," he challenged. Even though I'd been playing for eight years, I knew I was still nowhere near as good as Captain Hook, but my pride prevented me from rejecting his offer.

I pushed the bed sheets aside and walked over to the piano. I sat down when suddenly I felt a breath hit my neck. I turned my head a little to see Captain Hook standing right behind me, so close that if I just reached out my hand a few inches I would be touching him. I could almost feel the heat radiating off him, and I could smell the faint scent of tobacco.

"You may begin…" he said with a smirk, leaning closer. I suddenly realized he was trying to intimidate me. I sat up straighter and held my head high; well, it wasn't going to work on me!

I began to play a Beethoven song, which I immediately fumbled when my nervous hands wouldn't do what I wanted them too. I could feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Even though my playing was terrible, Captain Hook still named the song after a few seconds. I stretched my fingers for a moment before beginning the next song. I grimaced when my fingers still wouldn't play the song right, even though I knew the songs by heart. Within a few scales Hook named the song and I moved onto the next one.

After four correct answers I decided to play a trick on Hook. I pressed my lips into a fine line so that Hook couldn't see the smile on my face as I began to play the most recent song I learned. I got through the whole song without so much as a word from Hook. When I was done I turned around to face him with a smile on my face.

"Now don't tell me you don't know _that_ song," I said mockingly. Hook narrowed his eyes at me and growled,

"Alright, what song is it?"

"The Entertainer by Scott Joplin," I said, trying to hold in a laugh.

"I've never heard of it," Hook said suspiciously.

"I wouldn't think so, it only came out last year," I said, finally letting out a laugh. Captain Hook scowled for a minute and looked like he wanted to rake his hook across my throat, but after a moment I saw the corner of his lip twitch and I realized he was trying to hold back a smile.

"Captain!" I heard Mr. Smee call from outside the room. Hook stood up straight and walked slowly over to the door. He paused at the door, his hand outstretched and almost touching the knob.

"Well played, Wendy," he said before walking out and closing the door behind him.

I let out a sigh of relief that he was gone and began playing a simple tune on the piano. I realized that I was playing it perfectly, now that the Hook wasn't standing right behind me.

"Psst, Wendy!" I heard a familiar voice whisper. I spun around on the piano bench and saw Peter's face at the porthole.

"Peter!" I nearly yelled, but then slapped my hand over my mouth. The crew was just outside the cabin door, and I couldn't risk them hearing me.

"Peter, how did you find me?" I asked, jumping up and running over to the open window.

"Well, there were only so many places you could be once I couldn't find you in your cell," Peter explained with a grin.

"It was my idea!" I heard one of the Lost Boys pipe up from behind him. I climbed on top of the table to look out the window and saw all the Lost Boys floating behind Peter, with Tinker Bell flying above them.

"We've come to save you, Wendy!" Peter said quietly. "Here, give me your hand and we'll pull you through the porthole."

"But I can't swim, Peter!" I reminded him. Suddenly a shower of pixie dust hit me in the face and I coughed, brushing the sparkling powder away from my eyes.

"Good job, Tink," Peter said before reaching through the hole and grabbing my hand. Suddenly I began to float off the ground. "Everybody get ready to pull!"

Peter grabbed my hands and began to pull me through the porthole. I felt my hopes soar, just like my body, when suddenly I felt my hips hit the sides of the window and felt the metal lining of the window digging into my sides.

"Wait, I'm stuck!" I said harshly as Peter continued to pull. I grimaced in pain when the metal dug deeper into my sides.

"Hm, maybe we're not pulling hard enough," Peter mused, ignoring my comment before turning to the Lost Boys. "Come on, everybody, pull!"

The Lost Boys grabbed the person in front of them and formed a long chain behind Peter. Peter turned back to me and grabbed my hands.

"One…" Peter began.

"Peter, I don't think-" I began frantically, but he still seemed to be ignoring me.

"Two…"

"Peter, wait!"

"Three!" he cried, tugging with all his might and the combined efforts of the Lost Boys. I tried to be quiet, I really did, but when I felt the immense pain that shot into my sides at their tugging, it was like my mouth had a mind of it's own when it shot open and let out a scream that I'm sure even London could hear.

"Wendy!" Peter scolded me. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and then flowing down my cheeks in hot streaks.

"Stop…please," I whispered. A look of sympathy passed over Peter's face when suddenly I heard the door to Captain Hook's room bang open. My eyes widened and I gripped Peter's hands tighter in fear.

"Hey!" I heard Captain Hook yell and a second later I yelped in surprise when I felt two hands grab my ankles and pull me back through the porthole. I looked up at Peter in alarm and saw all sympathy leave his face, replaced by a look of determination.

"Everybody, pull!" he called out to the Lost Boys.

"No!" I started to protest, but it was cut short when I felt myself being pulled in two different directions. I felt like the last biscuit on the table that my brothers would fight over at dinnertime. Would I also be torn in half or ripped to shreds like the poor biscuit?

I started to cry…the only thing that waded it's way through the pain into my consciousness. When Peter saw this he let out a sigh and scrunched his eyes shut before letting go. I felt myself fly through the air and slip through the porthole in one swift motion.

"Oof!" Hook huffed as I slammed into him, landing on top of him in a heap.

"I'll come back for you, Wendy!" I heard Peter call out, and when I raised my head to look back at the window, Peter and the Lost Boys were gone. Suddenly I felt someone shove me and I tumbled across the floor, finally landing on my side. I sucked in a breath and clenched my teeth together to avoid crying out in pain.

"You wretched little…" Hook began to yell, but then suddenly stopped short. I looked up at him and saw that he was staring at me in shock. I followed his gaze down to my hips and gasped in horror when I saw the unmistakable red stain of blood seeping through my gown.


	7. Compassion & Contempt

Hook's cold blue eyes gazed into mine for a second as he held up the rag and then looked down at the bloody wound. I gripped the bed sheets tightly as he brought the cloth down to my hip, just above my skin.

"It will hurt," Hook warned me coldly, but I could see a hint of compassion in his eyes. After all, if he truly didn't care he would have called Mr. Smee to come and clean me up. Hook moved the torn cloth away from my hip and pressed the cloth into my wound. I hissed in pain when the whiskey-soaked cloth touched my open wound, momentarily setting it on fire. I gritted my teeth in pain and blinked back the tears. I wouldn't show weakness in front of him.

"Just breath."

His voice was kinder now, but still cold. Why wouldn't it be? I was his ticket to getting rid of Peter Pan once and for all, and I'd almost escaped. When all the blood was cleaned off he walked over to his desk. Taking out a few long strips of cloth, he walked back over and handed them to me.

"Bandage yourself. I'll get you something else to wear," he said as he walked over to the wardrobe next to the desk. He pulled out a plain white shirt with ruffles on the front and a pair of long, plain black trousers. He tossed them over to me.

"You expect me to wear men's clothes?" I asked, holding up the clothes that I knew would be too big for me.

"Unless you'd rather go without any, and I _certainly_ wouldn't be opposed to that," he said with a smirk. I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment and I fervently shook my head.

"Then don't complain. We don't have any women onboard, so naturally, there are no women's clothes here," he said rhetorically, and then he seemed to pause. After a second he shook his head and closed the wardrobe doors, mumbling something I couldn't quite catch. He strode out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Once he was gone I quickly slipped the ripped nightgown off and wrapped the bandages around my waist.

I glanced nervously back at the door, worried the Captain might come back at any moment. I hurriedly slipped the white shirt over my head and pulled on the black trousers. I tucked the oversized shirt into the trousers, hoping it would fill some of the space and keep them securely around me, but they still felt like they might fall down it I stood up without holding onto them. I leaned over and opened the small desk drawers on the nightstand next to the bed. I rustled through two drawers before I found some old rope in there. I quickly looped it around the black trousers and tied it securely around my waist. A few moments later a loud rap came to the door.

"Are you decent?" Captain Hook's voice called from the other side. Well, he was certainly more gentlemanly than I thought; I expected him to barge in at any moment without regard to whether I was dressed or not.

"Yes," I called back. As soon as he heard this he did barge in and went right over to his desk without giving me a glance.

I laid down on the bed and snuggled under the covers, ready to sleep after the painful ordeal I just went through. I fell asleep to the familiar sound of pen scratching against paper.

My dreams melted and blended with each other, forming an almost continuous dream. Scenes shifted constantly, and the people sometimes appeared only to disappear when the scene changed, but one person stayed throughout my dreams-Captain Hook.

He was always there, but never front and center like some of the other people in my dreams. He was always in the background, staring at me from across the room with those cold, calculating blue eyes of his. His gaze unnerved me and as I chatted with the other people, I could feel myself fidgeting with my hands-intertwining them, rubbing them together, pulling on my fingers nervously. Even when I wasn't looking at him I knew his gaze was on me, and it never once left or wavered from me to anyone else.

* * *

_Crash!_

I forced my eyes open to see what had woken me up.

"Get out!" I heard Captain Hook yell. For a startling second I thought he was talking to me. I sat up to see Captain Hook standing in the middle of the room, but his gaze wasn't on me. I followed his gaze to the door to see Mr. Smee standing there with a terrified expression on his face.

"Y-y-yes, C-captain," he stammered before running out the door, slamming it shut behind him. I suddenly noticed a large red stain on the wall next to the door and saw a red liquid dripping down the side, towards a pile of broken glass at the bottom.

I looked back at Captain Hook to see that he had walked back over to his desk. He picked up a half-empty bottle of what I assumed to be alcohol, and took a long swig. I glanced back at the mess on the floor and furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. Was that a bottle of alcohol that he threw at the wall? And why did he throw it in the first place?

I turned my eyes back to Hook to see him slam the bottle back down on the desk, empty this time. His cold, angry eyes turned to me and I immediately dropped my gaze to the wooden floor. After a few seconds I risked a peek back up at him to see his eyes still trained on me.

"What are you lookin' at?" he growled, teeth gripped tightly together. His words seemed to run together, and I realized that he was drunk. I looked past him and out the window to see the sun was just rising over the waters. I looked back at Hook in confusion. The sun had just risen and he was already drunk? I'd never known a man to get drunk in the morning, much less before the sun rose.

I stared at him for a second or two before turning over in the bed, so that my back was to him. Whatever had him so upset that he felt he needed to get drunk before the sun was even up, I wanted absolutely no part in. My mother told me it was best just to let a drunk man be, because there was no way to know for sure what somebody might do while they're intoxicated.

"If you're not going to reply, you could at least make yourself useful and fetch me another bottle of rum!" he snapped. I narrowed my eyes at the wall and felt my hands clench into fists at my side. The audacity of that man! My earlier resolve to just ignore him was banished from my mind entirely. I sat up and turned to him with fire in my eyes.

"I may be your prisoner, but I am _not_ your servant!" I snapped back at him. His eyes widened in surprise; he clearly didn't expect me to talk back to him.

"Insolent woman," he muttered under his breath, but I caught it.

"Insufferable pirate," I shot back. Once I was mad, there was no stopping me from saying what came to my mind at that second. His eyes shot over to me and gave a clear warning, but I was done being afraid of him!

"You'd do well to learn some manners, girl!" he growled, his own hand curling into a fist.

"Manners? You're one to talk, Hook!" I pushed the covers away and stood up.

"You kidnapped me, threw me in the brig, and then you speak to me with more disrespect than any woman should be treated with! _I'm _not the one who needs to learn some manners!" I said, raising my head high and taking a small step towards him with every accusation.

"Have you not heard of the saying, 'don't speak unless spoken to.' Women are to be seen and not heard," he said in a low voice, a dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. I knew this was my warning to shut up, but I was so mad right now I couldn't stop, even if I wanted to.

"I _was_ spoken to, or are you so drunk you forgot?!" I shouted back at him.

"Listen here, girl, your attitude is getting to be a real problem-" he growled, taking a step towards me.

"_My_ attitude is a problem? I don't have a problem! I'm not the one who gets drunk before sunrise!" I said angrily. Emotion was now choking my voice like a noose around my neck. He turned his back on me, but I was far from done.

"I foolishly thought that maybe there was an ounce of good in you, but it turns out I was wrong! You're what I always thought you were: a cowardly, drunk, old codfish with no love in his life!" I yelled back at him.

He turned sharply on his heel and gave me a glare that could wilt a flower. His gaze looked like he wanted to kill me, and for the first time I felt myself actually frozen with fear. With slow, deliberate steps he strode over to me. When he was only a foot away from me my instincts kicked in. I stumbled back with every step he took, just wanting to get away from him.

I should have known better than to antagonize somebody who was clearly intoxicated, but my stubbornness got the better of me. Suddenly my back hit the wall and I gasped. I looked up in alarm to see Hook take one more step towards me, closing the gap between us. His face was only inches away from mine. His breath reeked of alcohol, and with each exhale another wave of the terrible smell hit me in the face. Hook placed a hand—and a hook—on either side of me, trapping me where I was before leaning even closer.

"Don't you dare presume things about which you have no knowledge," he growled, his hot breath hitting me in the face before he turned and stormed out of the room.

I hadn't even realized I'd been holding my breath until the door slammed shut and my lungs screamed for oxygen. I sank to the floor, my legs giving out. I had never been so scared in my entire life. I took a few deep, calming breaths before standing up and walking back to the bed with slightly shaking legs. I sat down on the bed and shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

Suddenly I heard the locks on the door being unlocked and I felt a fear well up in the pit of my stomach at the sound of the door opening. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw it was only Mr. Smee. He held a slightly damp rag in his hands and he walked over to the wall with the red liquid dripping down the side. He wiped the wall down before bending down and picking up the shards of broken glass.

I felt bad for him. He'd had a glass bottle thrown at him, he'd been yelled at, and now he had to clean up a mess Captain Hook made—all this before it was even noon! I got up from my bed and walked over to him, kneeling down beside him and helping him clean up the broken glass.

"You don't need to help, Miss," he said, keeping his eyes down.

"I want too." As soon as all the pieces were picked up I turned to look at him. I can't imagine how he put up with Captain Hook all these years. It was no secret that Captain Hook mistreated Mr. Smee and took him for granted most of the time, except for when he needed someone to shoo away the crocodile.

"Why do you stay here, Mr. Smee? Why do you stay here after the way Captain Hook treats you?" I asked, completely baffled.

"Because he's my friend. He may not admit it, but I know he needs me. Friends stick together, through the good times and the bad," he said with a determined nod, as if he really, truly believed in what he was saying. I was completely speechless for a few moments.

"How can you be _friends_ with a man as evil as Captain Hook?"

"Cruel? Yes. Demanding? Yes. Short-tempered? Of course. But he's hardly evil!" he said with a small laugh. "Yes, he has many bad traits. I am not unaware of them, Miss. But there are some things that are understandable."

"Well, yes…but is drunkenness one of them?" I asked. Even though I'd meant it was a rhetorical question, Mr. Smee seemed to take it as a literal one that needed an answer.

"Well you can't really blame him, Miss," he said with a shrug and a look of sympathy on his face. I raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Certainly a man can be held accountable for how much he drinks! Even a drunk can be held accountable for his own actions," I said curtly. I admired Mr. Smee for wanting to defend his Captain, but there were some things that couldn't be excused.

"I meant the reasons he drinks, Miss. Surely you can understand that," he said, almost like he was pleading a case to me. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Mr. Smee, I don't condemn a man for drinking, but surely drinking for the pleasure of it and getting drunk before sunrise is a place to start," I pointed out. He looked up at me with a confused look on his face.

"You think he drinks for the pleasure of it?" he asked, almost as if he couldn't believe I'd said that.

"Of course."

"Oh, Miss," he began with a sigh, "He doesn't drink for pleasure, he drinks out of pain. He drinks to forget."

It was my turn to give him a confused look.

"To forget what?"

Mr. Smee's eyes suddenly dropped back to the ground. "Nothing. I've already said too much."

Mr. Smee started to take the pieces from my hand and quickly put them into a small bag. I reached forward and placed a hand on top of his, stopping him. He looked up at me and I silently begged him with pleading eyes.

"Please tell me?" I asked softly. He bit down on his lip before letting out a sigh.

"You promise not to tell the Captain I told you this?" he asked, eyes darting back to the door nervously. I nodded.

He sighed. "He drinks to forget _her_."

* * *

**I'd like to thank the anonymous review that corrected my piano scene in the last chapter. It's now perfect! Lol.**

**In the last chapter I got a review sharing a Wendy/Hook video with me, so I'd like to share a video with you guys too. Two, actually.**

**Just add these to the end of the youtube dot com address: **/watch?v=5eKwxSnGKZw** and **/watch?v=aAOMtY8s7zU

**The first one is the song that partially inspired this story, the title of the first chapter, and it's where I got the name for this story. The second is a song called Neverland. It's actually pretty catchy, and goes with the story. So, if you have some time, feel free to go check them out. =)**

**On a last note, I'd like to thank all my reviewers. I love reading what you all have to say. And as always, I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter! =)**


	8. Confessions

"Who is 'her'?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.

Suddenly the door swung open and Captain Hook strode in, hair sticking out wildly in all directions and two full bottles of rum in his hands. Mr. Smee grabbed my hands and pulled them forward, dumping the remaining glass shards into the bag. He hurried out of the room and I was left all alone with a drunk Captain Hook. This was just wonderful.

Even though Mr. Smee had given me a new angle to look at Captain Hook from, I was still angry with him. I walked back to my bed and sat down, keeping my eyes on Hook the whole time. I wanted to ask who 'she' was, but I knew that if I asked Hook flat out who she was, I'd have an innocent man's blood on my hands. If I wanted an answer, I'd have to dance around the topic carefully. Captain Hook sat down at his desk before uncorking one of the bottles on his desk.

"Why do you drink?" I asked. He glared at me before taking a long swig.

"That's none of your business," he snapped. He leaned back in his seat and kicked his feet up on the desk, crossing them before bringing the bottle back up to his lips and taking another long drink.

"Do you ever think you might drink too much?" I asked. A loud crack resonated through the room as Hook slammed the bottle of rum down on the desk, making me jump.

"You're just like her! Stop trying to save my soul, ok?!" he yelled, and suddenly his eyes widened, like he'd said something he shouldn't have. This was exactly the opportunity I had been hoping for.

I raised my eyebrows in fake surprise and parted my lips in an 'O' shape. "Who is _she_?"

"That's none of your business," he repeated. Then he snatched up the bottle and drowned the rest of it in one gulp. He was going to drink himself to death if he kept it up like this. He picked up the other bottle and tried to pull the cork out. When it wouldn't come out he let out a frustrated yell, and turned to his wardrobe. He started rifling through it, looking for something.

"Maybe talking about your problems will help," I suggested, trying to get him to talk. I stood up and began walking over to his desk.

"I don't have a problem, _darling_, but _you_ will if you don't shut up," he growled.

"Well drowning your problems with alcohol certainly isn't helping anything!" I shot back, ignoring his threat and continuing. When he didn't reply I got irritated.

"Why won't you tell me about her?" I asked, stomping my foot. I felt extremely childish doing it, but it was the only thing that actually made sense at the moment.

"Because poking into other people's business is considered rude, _Darling_, and I know you're all about manners, aren't you?" he said, spinning around to face me. I let out a huff and walked back to the bed. Hook turned back to his wardrobe and pulled out a pair of rusty scissors. Turning around, he opened them and then closed them around the corkscrew. It came off with a 'pop!' and he took a long sip from the bottle.

"I think you've had more than enough," I said, standing up and walking over to him for a second time. As soon as I got close he held the bottle out of my reach and let out a sound that sounded like a growl.

"Do you have a death wish, girl?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I'm not scared of you," I said, hoping my voice didn't betray me. If I didn't get that bottle out of his hands who knew how bad he would become! He'd already thrown a bottle at Mr. Smee and threatened me more than once. I'd hate to see him become even more irrational.

"Just give me the bottle," I pleaded, holding out my hand. Hook extended a hook and turned the sharp end towards my exposed skin.

"Why don't you be a good little girl and go back to the bed?"

The threat was clear in his eyes; I knew this was my last warning. But instead of heeding the warning, I let my stubbornness get in the way again, and I did something really stupid–I snatched the bottle from his hand.

His eyes lit up with a fire that I didn't even know could exist, and I stumbled back in fear. Hook jumped up from his chair and tried to snatch the bottle from me, but when I tried to take another step backwards, I knocked into the dresser and the bottle slipped from my hands, crashing on the floor and spilling the contents all over the floor.

Hook let out a yell of frustration and grabbed my arm, jerking me away from the dresser and slamming me against the wall. His hand gripped my shoulder and held me in place as he raised his hook to my throat. My brain was in panic mode as it tried to figure a way out of this situation, but my thoughts were cut short when I felt the cold tip of the hook press against my skin.

_This is it. This is how I'm going to die,_ I thought to myself as I closed my eyes and braced myself for the pain.

_No!_ a voice suddenly rang through my head, _If he's going to kill me I want him to look into my eyes as he does it!_

I opened my eyes and forced them to look directly into Hook's as I felt the cold metal press into my throat, sending a sharp, shooting pain through my senses. A small, terrified whimper escaped from my lips, like that of an animal about to be slaughtered. Hook's eyes suddenly widened, like he'd just realized what he was doing, and he slowly pulled his hook away from my throat. I could see a drop of blood on the tip, and when he stumbled backwards it fell from the hook and landed in the floor.

I was frozen in place, my eyes locked on Hook. Finally, he muttered a few profanities under his breath as he stumbled past me, making his way to the door. As soon as I heard the door slam shut I drew in a shaky breath and raised my hand up to my throat. When I pulled it away I saw a small drop of blood on the tip of my finger…but that was it. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion as I looked at the tiny red bead. He could have slit my throat; he had been _ready_ to rake his hook across my throat…but he didn't. Maybe Hook does have a heart after all. I looked away and shook my head. No, he didn't kill me because he _needed_ me. If he didn't keep me alive then he'd never get what he wanted from Peter.

I wiped my hand on my black pants and walked over to the piano. I began to play a simple tune, trying to forget all my present troubles as I let the melody of the songs surrounded me, enveloping me with their comfort. I played all the songs I knew, and then played them again. I played until my fingers ached and I completely lost track of time.

The sun was nearly setting when the door finally swung open, and Hook appeared in the doorway, nearly falling inside as he tried to steady himself. A full bottle of rum was in his hand. Where did he keep getting those bottles?!

He tried to take a step towards, but he lost his balance and fell backwards, crashing into the door. The door slammed shut when he fell back into it, and then his knees seemed to buckle, throwing him forward. He landed face-first on the carpeting, and the bottle of rum rolled away from him. I stared at him for a few moments, but he made no move to get up. He let out a groan, and his fingers twitched, but otherwise he remained motionless.

"You're drunk out of your mind," I mumbled as I walked over to him and stared down at his crumpled form. I let out a sigh; I couldn't just let him lay there, right in front of the door. But first…

I leaned over and picked up the bottle of rum. I felt a strange curiosity about it's taste as I stared at the dark, honey colored liquid. Did it actually taste good, or did Hook just bear the taste to get drunk? I'd never actually tasted alcohol, except the occasional sip my mother would give me from her glass when we went to social events. I glanced back at Hook before pulling the cork out of the bottle and taking a small sip. It burned my tongue and stung going down my throat. It tasted like sour caramel, and I had no wish to taste it ever again. I scrunched my nose in disgust before climbing on top of the bed and dumping the rum out of the open porthole above it. I placed the empty bottle on Hook's desk before walking back over to him.

"Come on," I said, grabbing his hand and helping him stand. I nearly had to drag him over to the bed, but when I sat him down at the end, he stayed upright. Letting out a sigh, I sat down next to him.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" I whispered to myself as I studied his face. His eyes were red-rimmed and had a hazy look to them, and his normally pristine looking clothes were rumpled. Most of his face was flushed red, and his mouth seemed to hang slightly ajar, but he didn't seem to take notice of it. Whoever this 'she' was, she must have completely destroyed his heart to have this kind of affect on him.

"I was in love once, Darling," he finally whispered. I leaned closer to hear what he was saying. "Sh-she was the most beautiful girl in all of England…but she was murdered."

My hands flew up to my mouth as I tried to cover up my gasp. He turned to look at me with those cold blue eyes and for the first time, I could see pain in them. I'd never seen anything but malice and contempt in them, but right now he looked broken and vulnerable. Seeing him like this–seeing his human side–broke down the defenses I had against him.

"I'm so sorry," I said, and for the first time since I arrived here I actually felt sorry for Captain Hook and didn't wonder why. I tentatively reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and was surprised when I didn't feel afraid. He also looked up at me in slight surprise.

"It's not your fault. You…you were like…like her," he said, eyes dropping on their own and his words blurring together. It was getting hard to understand him.

"You two had that fightin' spirit and were always so mature. She had curls…like your's," he said, reaching out and pulling at a curl that rested on my shoulder. He suddenly reached up and ran a finger down my cheek, causing them to heat up at the contact. I felt unnerved by the simple touch.

"You both have a pretty face," he whispered. His eyes closed for a minute but then they shot back open and he stood up and stumbled over to his wardrobe. He leaned against it for support before pulling it open and reaching for something deep inside. He finally paused and pulled something out. He held it up so I could see it and I gasped. It was a lovely dark blue dress that went down to the floor, with ruffles adoring the bottom half of the long skirt. It had a square neckline, and an empire waistline, indicating that it was from an earlier time period.

"I lied when I said I…I didn't have no women's clothes. This was her favorite dress. If you want to wear it, you can. This was her favorite dress," Hook's words tumbled out of his mouth, and I doubted he knew that he was repeating himself. He took a step forward, but his foot got caught in front of the other one, causing him to trip. I shocked myself when I shot up from the bed to catch him. I wrapped an arm around his shoulder and used all my strength to pull him up and help him back to the bed.

"Here," he said when he was settled, thrusting the dress towards me. "You can wear it if you want too."

I tentatively took the dress from his arms and gave him a weird look. Did he really expect me to change right in front of him? I sent him a glare when he just sat there, staring at me. Finally, he seemed to realize why I wasn't moving, and he turned around, facing the opposite way.

"I won't look."

I let out a sigh, and began to untie the rope around my waist. When I slipped the rope from the trousers I glanced nervously back at Hook, who still had his back to me. I didn't trust him. I walked over to the desk and crouched down behind it, grateful for it's partial coverage. As soon as I took all my clothes off I quickly slipped into the dress. I laced up the back, like my mother had taught me to do when I started wearing a corset and then tied the ribbon at the top. I glanced down at myself and smoothed out the folds before smiling to myself. It was pretty close to my size. It was a little tight around the waist, and it wasn't even fully laced, but it was the perfect length for me.

"You can turn around," I finally said, coming out from behind the desk. When his eyes finally landed on me, his mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened.

"Maria," he whispered, his voice cracking. I raised an eyebrow. Maria? Was that the name of the girl he had been talking about? It must be.

I walked over to the bed and sat down again, Hook's cold blue eyes following my every movement. I looked away in embarassment. Suddenly I felt a warm hand on my cheek, and I jumped, jerking my head to the side to see Hook staring at me with an intense look on his face. He slowly moved forward, his face tilted slightly to the side. It took me a moment to realize what he was doing, but when I did, I jerked away, pushing his hand away from my face.

An angry look passed over Hook's face, and he grabbed my shoulder, pulling me towards him. I turned my face away from him just in time and his lips landed on my cheek instead of my lips. I felt a deep disgust for him welling up in the pit of my stomach, and I reeled my hand back before sending it flying across his cheek.

Hook looked dazed for a minute, but quickly regained composure…or at least, as composed as he had been before I slapped him. Suddenly, a dazed look passed over his face again, and he started to sway backwards. Despite everything, I still reached out to grab his shoulders and steady him. His eyes suddenly rolled back to the back of his head and he went limp. His body fell forward and his head landed on my lap before I could catch him. His eyes were closed, and his whole face was red, but when I felt for a pulse I found one, and his breathing was regular, even if somewhat shallow. Well, at least he couldn't do anymore harm now that he was passed out. Maybe he'd wake up in a better mood…then again, Captain Hook was hardly ever in an agreeable mood.

I let out a sigh as I looked down at his motionless form, feeling only pity for him now. All my anger had evaporated, and now I only felt sorry for him. I tentatively reached a hand forward and brushed a few stray curls away from his face. He didn't move after that; he just lay there, slumped over in my arms with his head resting on my lap.

* * *

**Well I hope this chapter met your expectations, because I know it was a long time in coming. I'm really, really sorry this one took so long, but for some reason this chapter was hard for me to write, and college took up a lot of time too. But since college is over until the fall, I should be getting chapters out more frequently now. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)**


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